


Gladiator

by TheMysteriousOne



Series: Beautiful Ashes [1]
Category: DmC: Devil May Cry
Genre: Gen, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-27
Updated: 2015-05-27
Packaged: 2018-04-01 12:16:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4019419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMysteriousOne/pseuds/TheMysteriousOne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A slave in an unknown world, held in check by a brand on his neck, and forced to fight. Dante never did well being held captive or being told what to do, and no amount of pain was going to stop him from getting free.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gladiator

**Author's Note:**

> Rating due to occasional nasties. I figured better safe than sorry. Also, Dargamie and its characters belong to my friend aciddragonsrose. Some of the ocs belong to me. Please do steal.

The demon stood over his foe with a taunting grin, his lips spread thinly over teeth too large for his mouth. He lifted the battered body by the jaw so he could look the young man in the face. "To think you defeated Lord Mundus. Ha!" His grated voice seemed to stir some life into the limp form, steel blue eyes slowly opening. The demon heard him say something but couldn't quite understand. "What was that?" he asked, leaning forwards.

"Fucking cheated," came the rasped response.

He threw his head back and roared a laugh. "Of course I cheated, numbskull! But what I'm about to do will top even that." He leveled his eyes on the stubborn nephilim's. "You refuse to die, so it's time to send you elsewhere. This will quite literally be my parting gift to you." He stood taller, taking in a deep breath. As he did so his aura shifted, growing darker until it became visible around him, engulfing his entire form. Then it spread along with the demon’s body. Like a black garbage bag caught in a breeze, it engulfed the nephilim in its ick and stench until it overwhelmed his sensitive nose, sending him into an even deeper darkness. When he came to he found himself lying on not cement but hard packed earth. Tuffs of grass and weeds sprung up here and there, growing stubbornly despite being trampled by constant traffic of horse hooves and wagon wheels.

He struggled to sit up, disoriented and unsure of his surroundings. "Where the hell am I?" His voice was still raspy, throat dry, body all too eager to remind him of the pain it was in. He still couldn't quite smell straight, though he had no trouble being able to see. On both sides of the well traversed road was tall grass that probably reached up to his waist if he were standing. It made it impossible to tell anything else about his location.  
Either way he was certainly not in Limbo City anymore. He had to get moving, figure out where he was and how to go back. Tucking his feet beneath him, Dante worked what strength he could muster to get his muscles to obey him, grunting and then gasping as the paralyzing pain shot through his legs and up his spine. That damned demon's nails had some kind of poison on them that not even his angel side could keep up with. He felt like his muscles were being torn from his bones one by one when he tried to move. Gulping in a few breathes he tried to push past the insane throbbing and tell his body that he wasn't being shredded to pieces, that it was nothing more than an illusion to fuck with him. Gathering himself again he forced himself to his feet, swaying, legs threatening to send him back down again as he sucked in air to overcome the tearing sensation. He saw darkness but fought it off, gulping and taking in several deep breathes. He had this. No way was he going to black out again. Yeah. He had this.

He shifted a foot forwards, planting it down quickly with a hiss, arms going out on either side to keep him from toppling over. 'Come on, stupid body. Work!' He tried another step, then another. Slowly he began edging his way down the road. Within what was probably an hour or two he'd managed to get as far as several feet from where he'd woken. It wasn't much but considering how each step seemed to become easier it was a victory in and of itself. He licked at his lips. Right now the only thing that'd make this situation a little more bearable was a drink. Water preferably. His throat and tongue were so dry he could barely even produce any saliva. For the second time that day he wondered where he was, wishing he could at least know that much so he could get a damn drink!

A snort from behind him brought him to a halt. Clomping hooves and the sound of a harness creaking under the strain of pulling a wagon grew louder as they drew nearer. It didn't take long before he caught sight of it. Leading was a young boy, nothing more than a thin stick dressed up in a dirty gray tunic and brown pants. His hand clasped the headpiece but he was hardly pulling on it, much less tugging it to keep the creature moving. Dante's eyes wandered over to the wagon. It was filled with who knew what, its lumpy contents covered by a large blanket. He still couldn't smell much of anything except that ick from the demon. He still felt nauseous from it too. That wasn't helping matters any.

The horse drew to a rigid stop, ears perked forwards, nostrils flared, poised as if to make a break for it. One of its ears swiveled towards the boy at its side as he leaned in close, eyes wide, practically hiding behind its large neck. Dante wasn’t at all surprised by the creature’s reaction. Most animals didn’t really care for the smell of demon. As for the boy… 'Yeah, I know. I look like shit,' he thought to himself. 

Dante grunted, licking his lips. “You uh… got water?” That got a peek from around the horse, the boy watching him before shaking his head. ‘Great…’ Just his luck. First person he meets and he was of no help. Maybe. “Where are we?”

The boy shook his head again, then looked past him. Dante could hear more horses. When he turned a group of four riders came over the hill. They were all dressed fairly similar in that they looked like they should’ve been in some Robin Hood movie or Renaissance Fair. Nothing fancy but definitely neater, nicer clothing than what the boy himself was wearing.

“I would leave.”  
Dante looked back at the boy. That voice sounded far too old to be his but there was no one else who could have spoken.

“Before they come closer preferably.”

The boy definitely didn’t speak. His lips hadn’t even moved. He stared openly at the horse. “Did you just…?”

His question was never answered, the uneasy whinny of a horse followed by a series of curses and crashing of a body colliding with the dirt. One of the riders had been thrown, his horse taking off. The others danced uneasily due to the other’s nervous behavior but made no such moves to buck off their riders. “That’s the last time I buy a horse from that liar! Hunter-trained stallion my ass!” the grumpy rider cussed, dusting himself off. “Will someone go fetch that good for nothing horse?” The man glanced up at him, the wagon, and then the boy with a frown. The others drew their horses to a stop nearby, save for one who’d broken off to get the runaway. “Lookin’ like I’m not the only one down on my luck.”

Dante wasn’t an idiot. He could tell the other two were ready to draw the swords strapped to their hips at the first sign of trouble. Not from him exactly but from the people they probably suspected did this to him. “Had better days.”

The thrown rider came to the back of the wagon. He grabbed the sackcloth covering the lumpy cargo and with a jerk, flung the thing back. Dante leaned over, gripping the side of the wagon with one hand. Apparently there was someone underneath taking a snooze amongst the crates. He hadn’t even noticed. ‘I’m losing my touch.’

The rider grabbed the napper by the collar of his shirt and hauled him to a seated position. “Neit, you lazy ass. Wake up! You’re supposed to be watching the wagon!” Neit snorted, his head flopping, smacking his lips before he bothered to open his eyes. He rubbed at them and yawned with a stretch.

“I’s was! Makin’ sures nothing hap’ns to the goods,” he murmured.

“Bah!” the rider released him, causing the other man to fall back. “Drunken bastard… Useless sack of shit.” He left the drunkard to blink blearily at the sky, coming back around to the front. “Daniel. Get some water for our friend here, yes?” the rider waved in Dante’s direction. At that the boy jumped into action, rummaging around the side of the wagon and producing a water skin. He came up to the nephilim and presented it before scurrying back to his horse.

‘No water, huh?’ Dante snorted mentally. He uncorked the skin, taking a sniff, not that he could smell anything properly yet, before chugging the precious liquid. Water trickled down the sides of his mouth and so once he was done he had to wipe it dry. “Thanks. Think you could tell me how to get back to Limbo City?”

The men looked at each other, clearly puzzled by the name. “Sorry, friend, but none of us have heard of that place. We’re about 5 kilometers away from Cassie if you would like a lift. Perhaps someone there would be able to help you.”

Dante considered it for a few seconds before agreeing. Sitting, even for that short amount of time, would give his body a chance to recover from the poison and then maybe moving wouldn’t be so painful. The man who’d spoken during all of this smiled and motioned toward the wagon. “You’d probably be more comfortable up there next to Daniel.”

Dante thought walking was annoyingly difficult, but climbing up the narrow, single step at the wagon’s side was excruciatingly painful. The one man came over to help him but he waved him off. “No, I got this.” He regripped the wagon and bit down a cry, allowing only a grunt to escape him as he heaved himself up, muscles protesting having to lift his entire weight on just one leg. Once his first foot was clear and on the floorboard, he pivoted, practically collapsing onto his rear as he sank down to the wooden slat. He let out a breath, pulling his other leg in and straightening. “Right, so, onto this Cassie place.” 

The rider smirked in admiration. “You’re a stubborn one, Mr…”

Dante didn’t raise up to the bait. He merely shrugged and leaned back to get as comfortable as he could considering the wagon seemed to be made of mostly wood. The seat had a small cushion. Enough to keep one’s ass from becoming too sore too soon. If he had to stay up here for longer than half an hour though he was gonna be hurting worse than he already was.

The man took the cue and left him alone, remounting on one of the other men’s horses. The group turned around to go back the direction from which they’d come. Daniel quickly hopped up beside him, practically shrinking in size as he kept to one side of the slat, taking up the reigns and slapping them with a click of his tongue to get them going. It was enough to make him think he’d hallucinated the whole talking horse bit. After all, if a horse was smart enough to talk, why’d it let some human treat it like a dumb beast? Dante pretty much ignored him after that, stretching out his legs as far as they could go without dangling over the front. He felt like he could just take a nap right then and there. A majority of him wanted to but he fought off the urge. He needed to stay awake. There’d be time for sleep later. To keep himself awake, he watched the passing scenery. Hopefully he could get an idea of his surroundings and maybe just where the hell he was. Not that he’d ever left the city before in his life. 

By the wagon trail nothing but tall grass grew, spreading out quite a ways actually. Several bushes and a sprinkling of trees spotted the countryside on either side. At one point he could see what looked like a lake. A collection of buildings signaled that some kind of settlement had been built up there. Apparently it wasn’t Cassie because the group didn’t turn off onto the road leading down towards it. Cattle, watched over by a group of herdsmen, roamed freely on either side of the road they traversed. More than likely they belonged to that settlement he’d seen. Steadily, the land became hillier, the road rising and falling with it and they soon passed out of sight of the cattle.

Despite his attempts at staying awake, he caught himself yawning more often than not. The monotonous rocking of the wagon was actually very lulling. The road remained pretty smooth for being unkempt and it was getting harder and harder to keep from drifting off. He blinked, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head to ward off sleep. “Shit, man,” he murmured, leaning his head back. “Can’t barely even keep my eyes open.”

“Water?”

Dante pulled himself back upright, glancing at his wagon companion. The boy’s voice was so soft and mousy sounding he hadn’t been sure he’d even heard him at first or just imagined it. He was holding out that water skin to him again. The nephilim shrugged and took it, gulping down another good few swallows before recorking it and handing it back. He settled in his seat again, not getting too comfortable this time. Sleep was too close to the surface and somehow not even the stiff board he was sitting on was managing to keep him awake.

 

The man who’d played as spokesperson for the group turned in his saddle and glanced back. It looked like the one they’d picked up this time had fallen into a deep sleep. He was slumped forwards, having apparently done his best to fight off the drug. Daniel had to push him over so that he lay on his side to keep him from falling off. San smirked. Not even one such as he could’ve won out against the strength of their narcotics. It was powerful enough to knock out a full grown dragon after all. Odorless, tasteless, and colorless, it was impossible to detect and this one had to have drunk at least half if not almost all of one skin full of the stuff. 

San subconsciously slipped his hand into the coin purse at his hip, fingering the small orb inside before snatching his hand back out with a silent hiss. Its surface was slippery and hot to the touch, scorching his skin. He didn’t have to look to know it was glowing brightly. Daniel had done well in giving their new friend extra water. He was a powerful one if the Telling Glass was kicking off so much light that it threatened to burn a hole in his purse. He grimaced. The more of the sleeping draught in his system the better for them. San gave the drugged man one final look. He certainly appeared human enough but he was all too familiar with magical creatures. They were good at disguising themselves. Especially the more powerful ones.

It didn’t take much longer before the group of travelers veered off the main road to a lesser used one. The grass was slightly shorter in this area but still overgrown enough to hide the trail from plain sight. Several kilometers down this road and the uninhabited hilly land finally gave way to a large wooden gate carved into one of the many hills, the land around it slopped in an almost protective manner. If one weren’t looking for it, the gate would’ve been impossible to see from the road. Here the wagon drew to a stop. San dismounted and lifted his coin purse, opening it to reveal the Telling Glass within to the gate. Nearly invisible inscriptions scribbled across the wood glowed faintly in response before fading away like slithering snakes. A hollow clank within signaled that they were now allowed passage. He quickly put the Telling Glass away and stepped back, the gate opening and two men stepping out to greet the party.

“Running a bit late, San. We were expecting you yesterday.”

“Met some little trouble. Had to go the long way to avoid one of the Queen’s patrol. Seems like they’re really active around this area.”

The first guard smirked. “They won’t find anything. They’ve patrolled this area before. The boss has got good shielding wards on this place. And if they get too wise, we’ll just move.”

As they spoke the other men dismounted, pulling back the cloth covering the wagon, joined by the second guard. The lack of motion and the blinding light stirred Neit into wakefulness, the drunkard staring bleary-eyed at the guard for a moment before grinning and waving. “Mornin’s.” He slide to his feet, dusting himself off and with jerky movements tried straightening his clothes before smacking his belly. “Aye, twas a good ride that’s was.”

The second guard glanced towards San with a raised eyebrow, to which he received a shake of his head. “Looks like we’ll be short some spirits eh?” the first guard commented.

“Yes,” San muttered, more than a little annoyed. “The fool decided to dip into them before we even arrived.” Niet tittered near the other men, going over the inventory of the wagon’s contents but being more of a hindrance than real any help as they began unloading. “I’ll be getting rid of him before long. He costs me more than he’s worth having.”

“What about your other little sleeper?”

San quickly realized to whom he referred and smiled. “Ah yes, him we picked up not too far out. A fine addition I would think for Al’s ring, and maybe my only way of making up for lost profit.”

“Looks like your boys gave him quite the beating.”

“Ha! I wish I could take credit for that. We found him in that condition.” San moved from the guard’s side. “They’ll finish unloading. I’m sure everything’s in good shape with the exception of the missing drink.” He wanted to go and speak with Al about the powerful creature sleeping on his wagon.

“How about I do you a favor and retrieve the boss for you?” the first guard suggested, catching onto what he intended.

“I’d appreciate that, actually.” The sooner he spoke with the man and took care of this deal, the sooner he could be rid of his extra cargo. His hand flitted down to his coin purse but didn’t open it. There was no way of knowing when those drugs would wear off or just how powerful the man truly was. The Telling Glass gave a rough estimate and considering how hot it had been burning earlier, he had to be packing a lot. San wouldn’t admit it out loud, but that kind of power made him nervous.

While he waited San watched as his men worked and the remaining guard checked that there was nothing suspicious about their delivery. Not that they didn’t trust him for he had been a valued supplier for years. It was the crackdown of the Queen’s army against slavers that had everyone jumpy. Someone could have slipped into the wagon unnoticed, or a tracking spell might have been placed on it. Their business was a dangerous one and San loved every minute of it. As long as he didn’t end up with the short end of the deal.

“I hear you have a present for me.” San turned at the sound of his old friend’s voice. The man was nothing special in appearance but he walked with a solid stroll that made everyone who looked at him take notice. Confident and steady. One might even say somewhat charismatic because of it.

“You heard right, my friend.” The two men embraced briefly like former comrades long since parted after a war.

Al released him, smacking him on the back. “Well then, show me! I’m always eager for presents.”

San chuckled and made a sweeping motion with his hand towards the wagon. “This way, my friend.”

They both found the drugged man still in a deep sleep, much to San’s relief. It didn’t seem as if he’d be waking any time soon. “Luck smiled on me today. My men and I may very well have been slain on the way here.”

“A fighter then?”

“I can only assume.” At the questioning look Al gave him he continued by explaining, “I was telling your guardsman I had found him in this condition. I don’t know what caused this but he is a stubborn one. Wouldn’t even let me help him up onto the wagon. Daniel gave him the sleeping potion but I wouldn’t dillydally on looking him over.” He lowered his voice as he continued, “My Telling Glass burned my fingers.”

“It would certainly seem Luck was on your side.” Al thought for a moment before he motioned to one of the guards. “Take him inside. We might have just found ourselves a champion for the ring.” He turned back to San. “So… how much is this little present going to cost me?” Whatever the price, it would be well worth it if they could control such a powerful creature.

 

The room was mostly dark, lit only by the torches placed in even intervals along the walls. There were no windows, only the one door through which they had come through. For the most part the room itself was empty save for two objects, a trolley with various objects on it and a raised stone platform with iron and leather bindings. These they used to strap down their sleeping victim by the ankles, wrists, thighs, upper arms near the elbows and lastly his stomach. Should he wake, it would be nearly impossible for him to move, or at least so they hoped.

After hearing San’s story about the power this creature possible possessed Al was anxious with anticipation. It was a rare thing to come across something that made a Telling Glass glow so hotly and now he had one lying before him. He could make much use of him, both as a fighter and new breeding stock.

There was just one thing that bothered him. When they stripped him of his strange clothing to check for anything he might be concealing they found a pair of metal objects he had never seen before but had only heard of. One white and the other black, they had some weight to them and fit well in his hands as he inspected them. In light of the creature’s manner of dress he had a sinking suspicion that their newest addition was not Dargamienian but from an Earth, and that the objects were weapons known as guns. A more nervous man would have instantly gotten rid of them but Al was no such man. He tucked them away inside his clothing, his curiosity stronger than any fear of hanging for possession of illegal weapons. He had nothing to worry about when it came to his men. None would say anything. Each knew they were already meant for the gallows. Such was the fate of those involved in a fighting slave ring. And even if they could get a deal that let them off, none would take it. They were loyal to a t. This mentality was the only way they’d survived as long as they had, and quite comfortably. None were in want for anything. Money, food, drinks, women, or men if they preferred, were readily available to all. There was no reason to turn against one another unless someone were to get stupid or overly greedy. Men like that found themselves dead pretty quick while under Al’s employment.

Two of the five guards helped lay out their newest slave on his stomach and Al could see more clearly the odd mark on the creature’s back: carved deeply to scar the way it had was what looked like a simplified sword with a circle beneath its hilt, along with wavy lines that came out as if they were wings. It was quite the mark and he pondered at its meaning.

Once the creature was fully strapped down to the platform, Al nodded to the small mage standing at the waiting beside the trolley. “What do you make of that?” He held his torch aloft so that the other man could get a better look.

“I’m not sure, sir.” He ran his fingers over it gingerly. “I’ve never seen anything like it. There is definitely magic here. Or a power of some kind. I cannot decipher its purpose.”

It might interfere with the magic of the brand, Al realized. “This one will have it on the neck then.” Instead of the back like he originally planned. That earned him a rather surprised look. A brand on the neck was usually reserved for sex slaves only. Certainly the Earther had his attractive qualities, but his build, especially roughed up the way he was, gave off the impression of being a fighter. He’d be bred, assuredly, as a fighter but that was hardly any reason to brand him as a sex slave.

“Trust me, he’ll be far easier to control than if we did it on his inner thigh. But before we begin… perhaps it would be prudent to add some extra cautionary measures. Ink wards. Perhaps we could place some in his wrists and ankles.”

The mage nodded. Apparently he knew what he wanted. He picked up a thin but long needle and an ink well. Al kept the torch aloft but close enough to give the man good enough light to work by. Carefully but quickly, the mage tattooed intricate looking designs into the creature’s wrists, right above where he was bound, then did much the same with his ankles. As soon as the circle was completed the designs disappeared from view. Once this was done he picked up the metal branding rod, Al now lowering the torch for him. Holding the rod up above the flame for a few minutes, the mage began chanting indiscernible words, repeating them several times before finally taking it away from the fire. Al stepped back a bit, getting out of the way. The guards standing nearby tensed, hands on their swords, a couple on a whip. The mage took one steadying breath. Soon the smell of burnt flesh was punctuated by a scream, the bound creature lurching against the straps, metal and leather straining to keep him.

 

Dante was jerked awake from a muddled sleep by hot pain at his neck. His first reaction was to lash out and then roll away from it but neither were possible. He soon realized two things, first and foremost that he was locked in place, face down, against some kind of stone surface. Secondly, he was bare ass naked. Panic, quickly mixed with rage, filled him. He had no idea where he was, or who had him, but they sure as hell weren’t going to be taking advantage of him! Latching onto emotions for added strength, he strained against his bindings, hearing leather creak beneath the strain.

“I’d relax if I were you. Or you’ll find yourself hurting far worse.”

His head snapped up. It was a man Dante didn’t recognize who’d spoken, face lit up by the torch he held. Seemed to be watching him with calm fascination, almost like he was studying him. Like he was some kind of prize. It was all Dante needed to know to not like the guy. “You’ll be the one feeling the pain once I get free, asswipe.”

The man shook his head with a sigh. “This could go far easier if you’d let it.” Dante just snorted, curling his hands into fists as he continued to heave upwards. A smartass remark was at the tip of his tongue when a single word came from the man and all thoughts flew out of his mind. He knew pain. Lived with it for years. But none of it was comparable to what he was feeling now. 

In a ripple affect each and every nerve ending sparked like millions of ragged edged blades had been jabbed into him, spanning his entire body until even his mind felt like mush. But darkness didn’t claim him. Instead he was made to suffer the effects of whatever it was that had a hold of him. Even as the pain began to subside, every muscle in his body felt like they were going to convulse into spasms he had no control over, and tear away from him to get away from the punishment as if his bones were at fault. He lay there gasping, trying to gather himself.

“Now… if you would just listen. We won’t have to go through that again.”

“What… the fuck… was that?”

“A little insurance to make sure you behave.”

Dante continued to glare at him but could do little. It was as if his strength had all been zapped out of him. His hands curled into fists but he couldn’t muster anything. ‘Fuckin’ a…’ What the hell had that done to him?

“I highly recommend you don’t fight me,” the man suggested once more. “As I said, things will go far better for you if you behave.”

Dante was barely aware of the hand that touched his arm, his bindings gradually loosened. Someone was doing the same for his ankles and other bindings. He was allowed up. The world around him spun and it was all he could do to keep from reaching out and catching the cold stone he’d been lying on and leaning over to throw up. They didn’t need to know his condition. The less they knew, the better. He just needed a moment or two to recover. The man who’d freed him was someone in a robe and for the first time since he’d been so rudely awakened, he realized he was far from alone with the man who’d spoken. There were several others there besides the two. He chuckled dryly. “Sure you got enough bodyguards against little ole me?”

“More than enough for my present purposes. Now come, get dressed. Unless of course you would prefer to walk the hallway bared for all to see.” He handed him is pants. Dante accepted them, glad to cover himself. He was no prude, but given his situation, being semi-dressed made him feel less vulnerable. His body was still sore from the pain that had erupted throughout, though he did his best not to reveal that. It did little to cover the pulsating he felt in his neck. He could have sworn he smelled burnt flesh but he couldn’t be sure.

“Now. If you would.” The man motioned for him to go towards the door, introducing him to the escape route with a sweep of his hand.


End file.
